She Had Me
by idkaname
Summary: After living hidden from hunters, Erin Barnes must rely on the hunters she trusts the least, Sam and Dean. She blames them for her mother's death, but she must put it aside when her mother sends her to them for her safety. The twists, turns, chaos, and heartbreak that come to protect her from the forces that desire her, could not even have been seen by a psychic. Destiel & SamxOC
1. Chapter 1- Standing on a doorstep

**A/N: I do not own anything from the Supernatural universe. I am just a poor college student…**

 **1-Standing on a doorstep**

I met the Winchester brothers when I was ten years old. They probably don't remember that afternoon. I barely do.

It was Bobby Singer's birthday, and someone, I don't remember who, decided it would be a good idea to get together a bunch of friends to bother him and drink most of a liquor store. My mother dragged me along. She thought it would be a good idea for me to meet some of the hunters she dealt with. I was to never work with them, though. That rule was beat into my brain as soon as I started showing psychic abilities. But friends were friends and my mother wanted me to meet Bobby.

The Winchesters showed up, too. Not John. I never met John. But his boys did. Dean, young and fresh at eighteen years old, drove up with his little brother Sammy sitting shotgun. I guess he wasn't so little. He was fourteen years old and already almost as tall as Dean. He was already taller than me by a long shot. All skin and bones and shaggy hair. Dean already wore that leather jacket, looking like some lost puppy James Dean wannabe.

A few others were there, but I don't remember them too well. But I remember the brothers. All smiles and hugs and boyhood innocence. Something about them stood out to me. Call it a psychic intuition. I knew they were going to amount to something. I didn't know what, I didn't even know if it was my abilities talking or just my gut.

Of course, when I started to hear about the exploits of the brothers, I knew it hadn't just been my gut. I didn't follow it very well. I tried not to be a psychic. I wanted to have a normal life. I saw what being a psychic did to my mother. It ruined every relationship she ever had and drove her away from her own family. We aren't from a long line of psychics, just me and my mom. She was happy when I started to show the signs of being a psychic. She wouldn't be alone anymore.

But now I'm alone. Because the Winchester brothers got my mother killed in their crazy quest to stop the apocalypse.

I know, I know, the world is more important than one woman. But she was my mother. And she died helping Sam and Dean with their stupid quest to give Heaven and Hell one big middle finger. A lot of people died because of them.

Which is why I have no idea why I was standing outside the door of the Men of Letters bunker in Lebanon, Kansas. I fiddled with the strap of my duffle bag thrown over one shoulder while I waited. I had knocked on the door three times already, but no one had answered it. I raised my hand to knock again, but the heavy steel door swung open before my hand got there and I almost punched the person who had opened it for me.

Dean had opened the door. I hadn't seen him in eighteen years. He had grown up. His green eyes were still bright, but there was a darkness behind them now. His knees had bowed, his chin and shoulders had broadened, and he had grown a layer of stubble, but he still wore his hair spiked up in the front. His skin had darkened with sun and his shoulders had sunk with age and responsibilities. "Who the hell are you and what the hell do you want?"

He didn't recognize me. Then again, I didn't expect him to. We haven't seen each other in eighteen years and we had only met once before. The man behind him, however, did recognize me. He was shorter than Dean, but not by much. His black hair was thick and disheveled, his blue eyes bright and clear. He wore a white dress shirt with a striped blue tie and black dress pants. Every time I had seen him in a vision, though, he wore a trench coat.

"You're her." He mumbled. His voice was low and gravely, oddly calming. "You're her daughter."

Dean glanced back at his companion before looking me up and down. "Whose daughter?" Dean's voice was deep and rich, rough around the edges.

"She is Pamela Barnes's daughter." The Angel of the Lord murmured.

 **A/N:**

 **Hey guys! My name is idkaname and I hope you guys enjoyed the start of this story! I've been a fan of Supernatural for a while, but I never really had the urge to write a fanfic about it. And then I decided I wanted to do it after all. I have chapter 2 written, but I want to see what kind of response I get form you guys before I put it up.**

 **If you guys have any questions/comments/concerns, send me a review or a message! I'd love to hear from you guys!**


	2. Chapter 2- An Angel and some bad men

**2-An Angel and some bad men**

"Pamela's daughter?" Dean asked incredulously. He looked me up and down, his eyes searching for some similarity between me and my mother. "Wait, Pamela had a kid?"

I shouldered past him, surprised that he let me pass. "She had me. And she told me to come here. I don't want to be here at all, but apparently I'm in danger and I need your help."

"She told you to come here?!" Dean was aggressive, slamming the door shut behind us and turning on his heels to face me. His shoulders were arched stiffly and he was breathing heavily. "How can a dead person tell you what to do?"

"Dean," the Angel whispered, imploring the hunter to pay attention to him. "She's a psychic, like Pamela."

Dean froze, staring down at me. His green eyes wide and vivid. He was handsome, in a rugged sort of way. I could see how he could popular with the ladies, or the gentlemen for that matter.

"Dean?" Another male voice called from the floor below us. This voice wasn't as deep or gravely. He sounded tired, more than any voice I had heard since finals week in college. "What's going on?" The voice was just below us then. I looked over the railing and saw Sam below us. His transformation since I last saw him was even more dramatic. He was tall, obnoxiously tall, with a narrow but sturdy frame. His hair was almost as long as mine, framing his face with light brown waves. His green eyes were almost as bright as his brother's, shining in his tan face. He had grown from awkward to handsome in eighteen years.

Dean watched me for a moment before he answered his brother. "It seems Pamela made a long distance call from Heaven and told her daughter to come find us because she was in trouble."

Sam finally looked at me, and I could feel his eyes run up and down my body. He was probably looking for some bit of my mother in me. "Pamela had a daughter?"

"She had me." I sighed, shifting the duffel bag strap on my shoulder. "Erin Barnes, in case anyone was interested." Sam gave me a half smile and Dean gave me a glare.

Sam jogged up the stairs, his eyes locked on me. "Did you test her out?" He murmured huskily, glancing at his brother before returning to staring at me. His eyes were hypnotizing. Almost hypnotizing enough to ignore that the hunters were about to run their battery of test to make sure I wasn't a demon, shape shifter, or some other monster. Well, I was a monster, but the very human kind.

"That will not be necessary." The Angel told them quietly, coming to stand closely behind Dean. "This is Pamela Barnes's daughter. I am completely positive."

I gave him a slight smile over Dean's shoulder. "Thank you, Castiel." Dean was visibly taken aback that I knew his name despite having never met him before. His eyes widened and his eyebrows shot up as he leaned back on his heels. "I'm a psychic, Dean." I smirked at him, feeling the corner of my mouth twitch up. "I've seen him in visions before. Now, do I get to listen to my mom and stay here or should I get back in my car?"

"Pamela sent you to us?" Sam asked gently, his broad shoulders hunching in slightly as he looked down at me, like they were trying to make up for our height difference in their own way.

I nodded quickly, readjusting my bag again. The strap was starting to dig into my shoulder. Before I could react, Sam reached out and took the strap from me, putting the duffel on the floor between us. "She told me that I was in danger and that I needed to get to you guys, that you two would keep me safe, and then told me where to find you."

Sam picked up the duffel bag again, this time resting it on his shoulder. "Then I'll show you where you can put your stuff and sleep. It's the least we can do."

Dean was upset, that much was obvious, but he didn't object. He didn't even move. His eyes followed me down the metal spiral steps as I followed his brother. He and Castiel kept their places at the top of the stairs.

"Thank you, Sam." I called to him from a few paces behind him. "I hate to barge in on you guys like this. You guys don't really know me and I show up at your door and ask for help."

He chuckled, brushing his hair behind ear as he led me down a concrete and wood hallway, well-lit from above by vintage drop down lamps. "Saving people is what we do. Kinda the family business."

I nodded, even though he couldn't see me. I knew about their family exploits. John, Sam, and Dean were known to rush head long into burning houses or gnashing teeth to save people they had never met before. They had at least met me before. They knew my mother. They got my mother killed.

The anxiety, mistrust, and dread seeped its way back into my stomach as I walked into the room that Sam had opened for me. It was a simple room, brick walls, a double bed with dark red blankets, a small nightstand with antique desk lamp, and a dresser against the wall. It reminded me of college, but I could see the appeal for hunters. They tended to move around all the time, and having some place to go back to, no matter how simple, must be extremely comforting.

"Whenever you're ready to talk about what your mom told you, we'll be ready to listen." Sam's voice was low and smooth, comforting the panic in my stomach. I had been there for five minutes, and the Winchester brothers, and their Angel, were nothing but helpful and kind to me. It was hard to think that they had led to my mother's death. But even sweethearts could be serial killers. And that's all hunters were, crazy people one step away from becoming serial killers. Even if they were nice to pitiful, motherless psychics.

I dropped my duffel bag on the bed before I turned to look at him. He was so much taller than me that I had to tilt my head back slightly to look him in the eye. His red and black flannel shirt hung loosely on his frame, but draped flatteringly over his chest and shoulders. I could see the fitted black shirt beneath it where he had left the top few buttons undone. His jeans were loose, sitting low on his hips before hitting his work boots. He had grown into a handsome man. I was still a bit of an ugly duckling, but in the adorable kind of way. "I'm willing to talk. It's not like I'm traumatized or anything. She died seven years ago. Just not a fan of being here. And the sooner we figure out why she sent me here, the sooner I can go home."

Sam visibly winced, but I didn't think much of it as I slid past him back to the hallway. I retraced my steps to make it to the main hallway Sam had led me through before I stopped, turning to look back at him. He was not far behind me, his work boots making louder thuds on the wood floor than my leather combat boots did. Sam gestured widely to a doorway to the left before he walked through himself.

The doorway led to a sprawling library full of floor to ceiling bookshelves, three beautiful wooden tables, and displays of antique artifacts. As well as a Winchester and an Angel. Dean had his boots kicked up on the edge of the table, leaning back in his chair as he typed away on a laptop. Castiel sat across from him, staring at nothing while he clasped his hands on the tabletop.

"Dean." Sam caught his brother's attention. The hunter's boots were off the table and his chair righted itself immediately. His green eyes flashed to me, a little uneasy. He didn't trust me. I didn't blame him. I didn't trust him either. "Erin's going to tell us what Pamela told her."

Sam motioned for me to take a seat. I chose one two over from Castiel, facing Dean. Sam walked around the table to sit across from me. Pulling the sleeves down over my hands, I took a deep breath. "I was in a séance." I started, forcing my mind to go back to last night, to remember every detail that I could.

"Séance?" Dean interrupted me, his gruff voice caught in a half laugh. He probably didn't believe in regular psychics. He believed in people like me and my mother, he had to, but not the drop in the bucket, read-your-palms type psychics.

I shrugged, used to the disbelief. "I have to pay the bills somehow. I used to have a real job, but then my mom died and I picked up the family business, kept the name going." I glanced at Dean for his approval, knowing I wouldn't get it. He kept his gaze level on me, his green eyes watching every move and twitch I made, reading me and judging me. "I was in a séance with Mrs. Tory Walters trying to communicate with her daughter, Taylor. I've contacted her before, she's haunting her old cellphone that Mrs. Walters carries in her purse." Sam made a small snort, distracting me from my story. I glanced at him, catching his green eyes. He seemed as reassuring as his brother was judgmental. I trusted Dean's skepticism more. "So," I forced myself to continue with another breath. "I reached out to Taylor, and we were talking. Mrs. Walters was asking about if Taylor had a happy childhood, but then Taylor was gone from my consciousness. Someone else had pushed her aside. And then Mom started talking to me."

"How did you know it was Pame…your mom?" Dean asked, less accusation in his voice than last time.

I leveled my gaze with him, mustering as much strength as I could to give him as much attitude as he was giving me. "I know what my mother sounds like. Plus it helps that she started singing 'Back in Black' once she realized she had my attention."

The transformation in the elder Winchester was startling. He relaxed in his seat, a chuckle rolling through him as his eyes crinkled up at the side. Castiel glanced at him, his eyes shining with their own laughter, even though his face remained stoic. Remind me at some point that classic rock was apparently the way to Dean Winchester's heart.

Once Dean had quieted down, I continued. "She told me that she had been trying to reach me because she needed to talk to me. She told me that I was in trouble and that I needed to get someplace safe as soon as I could. I asked her why I was in danger, but she cut me off and told me to find Sam and Dean Winchester and the Angel Castiel. Before I could even ask where you were she told me to go to Lebanon, Kansas, to kind the door below the power station, and that you would be there and that I would be safe. And she told me she loved me and to be safe and that she was watching over me. So I packed my stuff, hopped in my car, and drove through the night to get here."

Dean nodded, standing slowly from his chair, his bones and joints creaking. "Did she happen to say what was putting you in danger?"

I shook my head slightly, watching as Dean trudged out of the room. "No, she wasn't that helpful. I'm just amazed she managed to get a message out of Heaven."

Castiel straightened up in his chair, staring at me with his intense azure stare. "She should have not been able to get a message to you from Heaven, unless she had the help of another Angel." His voice was deep and rough, but so calming. I could probably listen to him talk for hours, not caring what words he was saying, just that he was talking.

"Do you know any Angels that would help her?" Sam asked, leaning forward in his seat, his whole face animated.

Castiel shook his head slightly, slumping back into the chair. "I am out of touch with Heaven. I would not know where to begin in finding out who is helping Pamela."

"That's okay, Castiel." I tried to offer him. "At least we know someone is looking out for her up there."

"Maybe Ash's crazy machine helped her?" Sam offered, standing from the table and turned to face the book shelves. I swear Sam must have been able to feel my eyes on him as I looked at him in confusion. "Years ago, Dean and I were killed, and some Angels sent us to heaven so they could steal our bodies. We were…"

"Vessels. You were set to be vessels for Michael and Lucifer. I felt when you died. I've felt it all the times you've died." Castiel and Sam both gave me strong looks. But Sam shrugged it off faster.

Castiel, however, turned in his seat to face me, leaning forward and putting his forearms on his knees. "You sensed all the times the brothers have died?" His voice was lighter, softer.

I shook my head, glancing back over at Sam, who was looking more closely at the titles on the bookshelves, searching for something. "Mostly just Sam. I felt Dean a few times, but I've come to realize I missed quite a few of his deaths."

Castiel opened his mouth to say something, but Dean returned to the room. He held three dark bottles of beer between his fingers. "You are old enough to drink, aren't you?"

I shot him a glare before reaching out for the beer. "I'm eight years younger than you, Dean. I've been old enough to drink for a while."

Sam took a bottle from his brother as well, giving me another strange look. "Your visions are awfully specific if you know how old Dean is. Sometimes I think even he forgets that. You aren't a mind reader, are you?"

"No, Sammy, she's met us before." Dean barked out. He set his beer down on the table, the _clink_ resonating in my ears. He pulled a faded picture from his back pocket, setting it on the table and turning it towards the three of us. It was a picture from Bobby's birthday, eighteen years ago, when I had first met the brothers. I was standing in front of my mother, off to the side, but I was in the pictures. If you chopped my long, unruly hair short and matured my figure, there wasn't much change in eighteen years. Unfortunately. I couldn't help but stare at my mother. She was younger, happier. Of course she was wearing a band shirt, a black Metallica shirt. But music was her passion. I grew up listening to all the classic rock I could handle because of her. I looked a lot like her now, just without the rack.

"I didn't remember you." Sam murmured, snapping me out of my trance. He was also looking fondly at the picture. His eyes, however, were on Bobby. I had heard about his death, and I'm sure the brothers were still in pain. He was like a father to them.

I gave same a slight smile. "I didn't expect you to. It was a long time ago. We were kids. How did you remember me, Dean?"

He gave me a lopsided grin, sitting back down in his chair. "I never forget a pretty face." He tried to charm, but I knew it was all a bluff.

"No, seriously, Dean, how did you remember?" I couldn't help but smile at him. He was standoffish, but he was warm and kind. He felt like an older brother should, even though I had no siblings, that I knew of.

He just shrugged, taking a sip from his beer. "I don't know. Just sitting here with you, how you talk and how you act, something was familiar. I guess maybe I remembered your mom, but something was eatin' at my brain to look at that picture." He gave me a sincere smile, leaning back in his chair and gulping from his beer.

I took a sip of mine, settling into the seat. "Does this mean you'll help me?" I asked casually, fighting the lump in my throat and the flutter of my heart in my chest.

Sam gave me a warm smile, returning to his seat across from me. "Of course we'll help you, Erin."

I returned his smile, taking another sip from my beer. Dean nodded in agreement with his brother, taking the picture off the table and leaving the room again. Castiel was quick to follow him, walking right on his heels. I smiled at the retreating Angel, who after all this time on Earth, hadn't picked up really any human mannerisms.

"He's adorable, in an all-powerful, lost puppy, kind of way." I murmured, leaning back in my seat, staring off to where the men had left. I took another gulp of beer, trying not to think about how shitty it tasted.

Sam was back at the bookshelves when I looked up, his beer left untouched on the table. I quickly downed mine before grabbing his and sipping on it. I stood from my chair and walked up behind him. His long, worn fingers had reached out to run over the spines of the books. This section appeared to be about Heaven and dead souls. He already held a book in his arms about psychics.

"Thank you, Sam." I murmured, gently touching his arm.

He jumped, looking down at me with his vibrant green eyes. "You're welcome, Erin." He gave me a hesitant, shaky smile. "It's the least we can do after all the help your mother gave us."

I gave him a faltering smile of my own, tipping my—his—bottle to him. "I drove for fifteen hours straight, I need to sleep. Wake me up whenever you guys get moving." I didn't wait for a response before trudging back to the room Sam had led me to earlier. What I didn't expect when I opened the door was to see the Angel Castiel sitting on the bed, looking guilty.

"Can I help you, Castiel?" I left the door ajar behind me, not comfortable being alone with an Angel.

He gave me a lopsided, sad smile. "Sam and Dean usually call me Cas. I've actually gown fond of it."

"Cas has a nice ring to it." I gave him a small smile. I walked to my bag, unzipping it and looking for my toothbrush. I had seen what looked like a bathroom down the hallway.

"I…I wanted to apologize." He stumbled through his words. I never thought an Angel could be nervous, but he sounded like he would have a panic attack at any moment

I stopped searching through my bag and looked at him. He was pale, enough so that I began to wonder if Angels could faint. "Apologize for what?"

"For what I did to your mother." He seemed calmer now, but he was very obviously ashamed. I tried to tell him it was alright, but he cut me off, his blue eyes seeming to stare into my soul. "I know what your mother meant to you. You two were alone in the world. And I hurt her. I _blinded_ her. And I am so sorry to do that do her. I…"

He stopped talking when I put my hands on his shoulders. His body was taught, strung tight with nervous energy. "Cas," It was strange to refer to an Angel of the Lord so informally, but why the hell not. The true vessels of archAngels were just down the hall. "My mom told me what happened. You warned her not to look for you, to not look at your true form. But she was stubborn and looked anyways, that's what blinded her. You didn't attack her. You didn't mean to hurt her. I forgave you a long time ago."

He nodded at me, a tiny smile on his pale lips. "But you haven't forgiven Sam and Dean."

His innocence and sincerity were shocking. He really did have the blind loyalty to the Winchesters that I had felt in visions. "No, I have not." I let go of his shoulders, my arms swinging loosely at my sides. "They decided to give Heaven a big 'fuck-you' and stop the apocalypse, which I'm grateful for, don't get me wrong, but they got so many people killed. Not just my mom."

Cas nodded, standing slowly from the foot of the bed. I was amazed he wasn't trying to convince me otherwise. "Goodnight, Erin."

 **A/N:**

 **Hey everybody!**

 **A few people read the last chapter, didn't get any feedback, but I might as well post this one too. This one is a little longer, just wanted to do a teaser first chapter.**

 **So, now you know a little bit more about her! Third chapter isn't done yet, but I'm working on it.**

 **Any feedback, good or bad, is always appreciated!**


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